His Mistakes
by nabilanordin11
Summary: Hooked Queen AU. No magic, no curse. Established EC in the prologue. Regina was married to David but he cheated on her. Leaving Regina hurt and afraid to love again. As she tries to move on, she doesn't realize that in the process, she is hurting the man who is currently in love with her; Killian.
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

**A/n: Songs are great inspirations and Regina/Killian are just beautiful muses. Enough said. Lol. This chapter is more of a prologue. A look into Regina's past that drew consequences and circumstances that left a scar on her heart. Hope you enjoy this and all reviews are much appreciated.**

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Her chandelier lights have been dimmed hours ago, its faint glow barely illuminating the dining room where she sat. A bouquet of flowers arranged elegantly in a crystal vase at the heart of the table, a ribbon wrapped around its neck and a card hanged loosely with the words "Just for you" in bright colours of red and pink. She hated pink. But she let it slide, forcing herself to see the big picture and that maybe it was all the choice he had. Their quaint little town wasn't exactly teeming with creative geniuses.

The place setting was made for two. She had taken out her finest china and her favourite crystal champagne flutes which made the setting all the more elegant, beautiful and special. Their food was meticulously prepared by her, a new recipe she wished to try to mark this occasion had gone cold and unappetizing, its warmth and hospitality disappeared as the clock ticked away. From seconds to minutes to hours.

But she sat there nonetheless, awaiting his arrival like any dutiful lover would. Her back rigid against the back of her chair, she stared at the wall in front of her as her fingers nimbly played with the edges of her napkin. She didn't know what time it was when she heard the turning of a key and a soft click of the door being shut. She didn't look to turn in the direction of the footsteps that neared her. All the anxiety she had earlier from the dilemma of wanting to see him and not wanting to see him was gone. She had paced back and forth trying to calm the butterflies in her stomach in anticipation for this special night. That too was gone and was replaced by something else; something that burnt the wings of those butterflies.

"You're late." If Hell were to freeze over it would be on this day, in this room by her voice alone.

A man who seemed so affluent in his demeanour was at a loss for words. He preferred to remain silent knowing full well of Regina's temperament and telling by the glassware that was still gleaming in the dim light he had missed a dinner, a celebration. Disregarding the brocade she put up he bent down at the waist and leaned in offering a gentle kiss to her cheek in hopes that it would make up for his tardiness. When his lips met the plum of her cheek, he could taste the salty remnants of tears shed. _She can't possibly be this upset over a dinner?_ , he thought to himself.

Standing behind her chair, he thumbed at the edges of her shoulders with a hint of concern in his voice "Regina, is everything okay? I didn't think you had anything prepared. I honestly didn't know and I got caught up with things... You should've told me."

Looking past her shoulder and meeting eye to eye, she scoffed audibly at his words. "I should've told you? You have the audacity to come home with not a word of apology or an excuse for that matter…and I should have told you? That's rich David." Getting up, she pushed out the chair forcefully so much so that the head of the chair hit against David's torso which almost knocked the wind out of him. Her emotions were getting the best of her and it often played out in her actions. She had the lost the patience to care. Grabbing the plates of food, she headed towards the kitchen avoiding his stare and pained expression as he clutched his stomach.

"Now wait a minute! What was that for?" His steps were far and wide as he stepped in front of her, blocking the entrance. She tried moving around him. She went left, he went left. She went right, he went right. Her eyes did not once look at him averting her eyes every single time he dipped to meet her gaze. Her breaths were shaky and ragged that he could tell. She was upset but he hadn't a clue as to why. His small and obtuse mind couldn't see the seemingly best laid out plans she had for him—for them—that night. "It was just dinner, for God's sake!"

At that she finally looked at him and it spelled out apathy with a capital A. "No, it wasn't JUST dinner David!" the volume of her voice rising to meet his. "You're so thick, you know that? Now get out of my way!"

Outstretching his hands, one on each side of the doorframe and pushes his chest out, he retorts with an indignant "No."

Her claw-like grip began to tighten on the plates causing her hand to cramp a little but not enough to cause her pain. "What do you mean no? You didn't know about the dinner, so let's forget about it, shall we? Get out of my way!" She tried sidestepping him and moving around his steadfast stance in front of the door but her feet were moving too quickly and the tip of her shoes knocked against his boot causing her to lose her balance. The subsequent crashing of the plates against her hardwood floor made them both jump.

Shocked as she was, her eyes began to well up. He didn't deserve her tears though but unfortunately with the tightness in her throat and the tears that pooled in her eyes she knew it wouldn't be possible to keep them at bay. He didn't deserve to know how broken he has made her feel. He didn't deserve to know that it wasn't just a table of food and the glass that lied in pieces on the floor shattered along with her heart. Throughout their entire relationship she blamed herself for every setback, biting back her tongue when what she really wanted was to lash out at him and it was all because she thought she was the one that didn't try hard enough at keeping their marriage together.

No she couldn't look at him and not let her tears fall; she couldn't do them both and not fall apart under his gaze so she bent her knees instead, reaching out to the nearest shard of china. These pieces were tangible; these pieces she could pick up even though they were beyond repair. However her movements were paused when David gripped her wrist and pulled her up to her feet. She resisted at first but he was bigger and stronger than she was.

His big hands that held hers once upon a time held so much promise, so much security, so much love. Smoothing down her hair, his fingers caressed her cheeks and cradled her face so gently that it became too much for her. She didn't want to be reminded of how gentle he was because in all truth, he wasn't gentle with her heart. Tears slipped down her face out of her own volition when she broke away from his touch.

Her lips trembled when she moved them to speak. Her voice was still raw, hoarse and thick with emotion but she fought through it, swallowing harder with every try. "It-it wasn't just the dinner, David. It truly wasn't."

The glass cracked beneath her heels as she stepped closer to the dining table and reached for the bouquet. "Your office sent this. Just minutes before dinner were ready," laughing wearily," you can imagine my surprise when it arrived at my doorstep. Take the card. Read it David. Out loud." Nudging the vase in his direction, he hesitantly took a step forward and tugged away the card. His eyes scanned the card and she could see the progression of his emotions from that of shock to embarrassment. Regaining her strength and anger from just watching him squirm, her voice became louder with each word. "OUT. LOUD. DAVID."

He had written on the card, he had asked for those flowers but he didn't decide on what flowers and blindly signed off the delivery form. He had a wife, the whole town knew and it would be perfect sense to send flowers to their house. Seeing no way out of this predicament he landed himself in, he read out the words that he penned himself earlier that morning.

"_Dearest Mary Margaret,_

_Your skin as white as snow,_

_Your lips as red as blood_

_And your hair black as ebony._

_Aren't you a fairytale beauty?_

_Love, your Prince Charming, David."_

While he was reading, she had moved away from him and sat back down at the head of the table with the vase still in her grasp in front of her. She had read that card over and over again, burning it into her mind, mulling over every slant and every curve of those letters trying to find a fault in the penmanship. Forged maybe, a copycat maybe, she initially had thought. But there was no mistaking it was his. He was a fraud in every sense of the word.

Eyes transfixed on the bouquet, she rattled off the questions that she didn't want answers to but asked anyway. She'd rather know all rather than nothing at all.

"Did you sleep with her?"

One step forward. One crack of glass under his foot. "Regina—"

"You slept with her? Tell me, David… How was it? Was it fun?" The heat, the anger, the betrayal; it seeped into every word. The thought of him coming to their bed with skin reeking of another's scent and lips marked by another made her stomach churn with disgust. "How strange that you were supposed to be the 'good' one and yet today—today you brought nothing more than filth."

Another step forward and another crack. "Regina, don't say that—"

She stood up and looked directly at his blue eyes as though she could reduce him to a pile of ashes on the very ground he stood on. "Then what should I say?! Should I celebrate?!" gesturing to what was supposed to be a romantic dinner, "Should I celebrate that my husband is sleeping with another woman?!" her arms flailing at her sides.

Storming towards her, no longer caring for the expensive glassware that cracked beneath his feet, he stood toe to toe as he matched her temper with his. She was breathing hard as was he but neither relented; both too stubborn for their own good. "If my WIFE wasn't giving me the cold shoulder every night, I didn't need to." Raising his fingers in the air, he counted off her faults. "You have nothing to give… No love.. Not happiness.. Not affection.. You haven't been able to keep a child! No Regina, I didn't need to," he snarled. The words that escaped him weren't of his conscious mind and it wasn't something new to him either. It had festered within him over the years; growing darker with every refusal, hurting him deeper with every miscarriage. His patience grew thin and he sought comfort in the arms of another. That was the reasoning he told himself when he laid between the legs of his mistress.

Backing away from him, a hand unconsciously drifted towards her stomach as though those very words could physically harm her. Not only had he admitted to having an affair, he blamed her for it. Like everything else that went wrong in their relationship. She couldn't do this anymore. Turning on her heels she left the room. She had to get away from him. She couldn't trust herself around him. He had never made her feel inadequate about not being able to carry a child. Never. It had been difficult and after trying so many times she had inadvertently closed off from him. It was too painful to be constantly hoping.

She was about to ascend the stairs but through the sobs that wracked her body and tears that streamed down her cheeks she felt numb and her legs gave way. Sinking down to the floor she pulled up her knees to her chest, uncaring of the way her back grazed down the wall. Her sobs were intermittent, gasping for air when it became hard to breathe.

Palms flat on the table, his previous words finally registered to him. He hadn't meant to say those things to her. He can't explain it but she made him be like this. Short tempered and careless with his words especially those directed at her. Tears sprung at his eyes when he realized that their relationship now was nothing like it used to be. Ignoring the tears that wetted his face, he went to where she sat and kneeled in front of her. "I'm sorry, Regina… I'm sorry.. I didn't mean to—"

Unexpectedly she cupped his face and brought their heads closer together till their foreheads touched. Her words were short. There was not much she could say with a tight throat that threatened to choke her. "Why did you do this to me, David? I loved you so much. More than my own self.. More than life.." Shutting her eyes closed she didn't see how David shook his head in denial. Her next words were nothing more than a whisper. "But I wasn't enough for you right?" choking back down a sob that told of how broken she felt. He broke her.

"It isn't like that, Regina. I don't know what came over me. She means nothing to me." He was pleading almost.

Tearily she scoffed at his weak response to assure her. "Anger speaks in truth. Not lies. How am I supposed to look at you and not see her face in your eyes?" Pushing him to stand upright and then following suit she visibly shrunk into herself when he offered to help. With arms crossed in front of her, she gave him her final word before walking back towards the dining room. "This relationship—this marriage is over."

Standing in the middle of the foyer, hands on both hips, "No, you don't get to do that." He wasn't about to let her throw him out into the street. He stood to lose more than just the title of her husband if this marriage ended.

Swiveling to face him, looking visibly upset and exhausted, she retorts, "Oh but I just did. Get out. I don't want to see your face again."

He didn't move. He was the husband. He was the one to call the shots, not her. "I'm not leaving. Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"It's time for you to leave, David!" grabbing the vase that wasn't meant for her, that revealed all of his infidelities; she lifted it in the air and threw it at him. "Get out!"

Ducking just in time, his eyes were bloodshot at the feel of how close her aim was to where he could seriously get hurt. "What the hell, Regina? Yeah you're right. This is over. We are over. I'm leaving." His eyes challenged hers though before stepping out the door.

Lifting her chin by a fraction, she spoke with false bravery, "I won't stop you." With that, he slammed the door behind him and causing her to flinch at the sound.

At the top of the stairs, a small boy of 3 stood in his Spiderman pajamas holding a plush sword in one hand and the other rubbing the sleep from his tired eyes. He must have heard the commotion and had woken up. "Mommy? Are you ok? There was a lot of noise."

Meeting his eyes her heart clenched at the love she did have. The love she was sure of and that she could give without a single doubt. "Henry… Henry baby go back to bed. Mommy will be right up to tuck you in." As much as she loved her baby boy that they adopted as an infant, she could only manage a small smile and hoped that it was enough. Enough for them both.

"Okay Mommy." Swishing his sword the whole way, he waddled his diaper-padded bum back to his bedroom.

X

After cleaning up the mess and putting Henry to bed, she finally was alone. Alone in a bedroom that she shared just hours ago with the man she thought she would spend the rest of her life with. Running a shaky hand through her hair, she stared back at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Her carefully applied makeup resembled nothing of beauty and instead streaks of black and red coloured her face. Turning on the tap, her line of sight catches on the test stick she took this morning.

Two pink lines. Pregnant.

Angry tears welled up with a vengeance, blurring her eyesight. She was going to tell him tonight. Tonight was supposed to be special. Until the flowers arrived it had been going well. She had been happy. But now more than anything, she was angry at herself for not listening to her heart, for not seeing when he went truant, for ignoring his pleas for intimacy.

Picking up the stick, she grips it tightly in her hand to the point of nearly breaking it in half. If it weren't for Henry who was a room away from her, she would have screamed till no sound was left in her. The test stick eventually fell out of her grip, ricocheting on the tiled floor.

It wouldn't break. It couldn't be erased. It shouldn't be like this.

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30 days. 30 days of bitter words, salty tears and sweet nothings. An unfortunate account of what transpired between man and wife. But she wasn't exaggerating nor was she pining over a marriage that no longer had a future even in its most amicable sense. She wasn't counting off the days in the calendar either for an important event for there was none. With all that was going on between her and David, Henry falling sick and mountains of work that piled on her desk every day, she didn't even have the time to clinically confirm the pregnancy. And now, there wasn't any need for one.

Because 30 days were the amount of days she was pregnant.

How do you begin to comprehend what has happened if only the night before you stood in front of the mirror, arms stretched high above your head, body facing sideways as you admired the tiniest bump that bloated your lower abdomen? How do you begin to process that the morning after would be spent in agonizing pain as hands twisted and clenched at the sheets of a cold bed? Sadly for Regina, this wasn't her first time and she knew what was happening. She knew her body too well to ignore the truth that would soon spell out in angry shades of red. 30 days it was, since pink lines told her what a doctor didn't have the chance to.

She didn't call David. He had left her and she was done with him. Their calls always ended up with one of them in tears and she wasn't about to call him already in tears. Kathryn, an old flame of David's but now a good friend of hers was instead the person she called. Kathryn could be trusted with Henry and loyal enough of a friend to not betray her wishes which was to not tell David. Kathryn had kept her word but the hospital however was out of her control.

Later that same day, the phone rings and rings. The echoing sound reverberates throughout the house, knocking on the walls trying to wake its inhabitants; or rather an inhabitant. Alone and empty sat a tired woman in an isolated corner of her room, knees pulled up to her chest, arms wrapped around her legs. Counts of her breathing and the clock ticking were all she could hear and all she wanted to listen to. That was the last thing she heard when the doctor told her to lie back and sleep. "It'll all be over before you know it," was what the doctor said. She nearly laughed before the gas took her to a place of empty dreams. Her marriage, her baby, her happiness; over before she knew it.

X

He had demanded where she was, what she had be doing here, why was she not here anymore. All answers came in stutters and it only frustrated him further. Just as he was about to wring the neck of one of the hospital staff, a doctor ushered him into a room. The walls were stark white that to the naked eye it was painful if you stared at it too long. Posters with positive anecdotes decorated its four walls. Instead of a feeling of relief, an overwhelming sense of dread washed over him as he unceremoniously sat on the plastic chair.

Five minutes later and a seemingly empathetic pat on his shoulder, David Nolan - emergency contact and next of kin of Regina Mills left that sordid room that was nothing more than false hope. His lungs were too full of something heavy and his breath squeezed into his throat. Shock and numbness left his mind bereft of any thoughts and his eyes clear of any tears. He was too miserable to cry. Too guilty to be hurting and mourning for a grief that wasn't his. The realisation of what he had done, the appalling knowledge floods his brain; Regina had been pregnant. She had lost the baby. A baby he knew nothing about.

Red and blue lights flashed and sirens wailed as he sped through town. It was a route he memorized for he had taken it day in and day out. Out of automation, he arrived at his home and parked the car behind hers. His heart felt like it was beating out of his chest as he walked up the pathway. The stark contrast of a single light amidst the darkness of the house gave it an ambience that brought chills to his spine. With a soft click of the front door behind him, he padded through a house he once called his and went to a bedroom he had long since left.

X

Standing in the doorway of the bedroom, she could barely make out his silhouette but she knew it to be him. She had expected him to come sometime but just not today when everything still was a blur to her. It was a small town and as Mayor it was a given that others would soon come to know about their problems. And in more often times than not they would inform the sheriff, her husband. Eyes closed she wished him away as she slowly unfolded her arms and brought her feet to the ground. Having not spoken since she came home, her throat was dry and lips were parched so when she finally did speak her voice was more broken than she cared to admit.

"Who told you?"

He was already quite close to where she sat and his breath hitched at the sight. "The hospital," he answers.

"I specifically told them not to. So much for doctor-patient confidentiality." Standing a bit too fast after being in the same position for hours, her feet are unsteady and in reflex she grabbed his outstretched hand. As much as it was a reflex for her to reach for him, it was as much to him as well.

Hands in hers but eyes averted, "Why didn't you tell me Regina?"

Pulling back her hand, she doesn't say anything. Unwanted tears had gathered in her eyes. She was still raw. She just got home. That phantom emptiness is still there. She didn't feel like rehashing the events of that day which now stood as an impenetrable barrier between them. So she ignored him.

"Why Regina? I deserved to know." Patience was never one of his virtues and it overtook the anguish in his heart. Seeing her back turned and walking away from him, it certainly did more to him than he thought it would. "Would you talk to me dammit?!"

Turning to face him, her face was hard with animosity. "And why should I? You don't listen. You lie. You cheat."

"That—that doesn't have anything to do with this!"

"It does! It has everything to do with that!" She couldn't hold it in any longer; her tears fell unabashed as she tells him what she had planned to that night. "The night—the dinner, I was going to tell you then, David! I was going to tell you... I was pregnant," breathing shakily she takes a step towards him," And then the flowers came, the things you said…" If he hadn't said she had no love, no affection and to not give him a child, she could have forgiven him. All the love she ever felt for him was still in her, rippling under the surface, subtly influencing the texture of her thoughts, like bumpy old wallpaper under new paint.

But there would be no going back nor would there be going any forward. He had lost the right to being a father to any child of hers the day he walked out of their house. His loss, his mistake.

**Thank you for reading! I'll be posting the next chapter soon!**


	2. Chapter 2: Adapt

**Sorry for the long wait! Life gets in the way, you know? I'm so very grateful for all the follows, faves and reviews! I hope you enjoy what I have in store for these two. This chapter has a bit of everybody. Enjoy!**

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The darkness of the night sky is comforting for he was near invisible as he sat on a bench at the docks. It was nostalgic almost, enough so that his thoughts were somewhat less of guilt. But there was guilt, nevertheless. Guilt for being weak and having failed at being the rock she needed. But grief over a loved one, a lost hope was something he dealt with differently than her and he did regret how that had become the first step of him going astray. For if he had left her sooner, which he wanted to, he knew and was afraid of how she'd take it. He somehow knew that she'd think that it would mean she was right to be afraid all the time and never feel secure or trust him. He knew that despite her attempts of being indifferent in the face of hard truth, she would say out of defeat 'See, you're leaving after all when you promised you wouldn't.'

The reason for him leaving was not the confirmation of all her fears about him. It was not. It was because of them. As much as he wanted her to, she couldn't see that. It was her fear he couldn't take. It was her distrust and fear he had been trying to fight. And he couldn't anymore. He was out of gas on it. If he loved her even a little less maybe he could take it. But it was killing him, this constant feeling that he was always scaring her and never making her feel secure. These feelings, these words, these explanations however did not leave his chest and into her heart and therein lies how they had hurt each other.

If anything might hurt her, he knew silence would. Silence was hers and it always has been hers to give and never to take. The need to be talked at, the need to be talked to was what she expected of him. But now, he gives her silence; he wants to hurt her. In silence he had left her standing alone in the depths of her own despair when he gave her one last kiss on her cheek. It was odd to be in that moment and realize that only when the relief of letting your other half go, you come to understand one another. At the tip of a breaking point, he knew of the complexities of her heart, that she truly doesn't mean to be cold, that she truly is wounded and yet he does it anyway. He wants to hurt her.

Because to him, despite the years of affection, terms of endearment and actual love that help create the life that they had up until the moment he strayed, the reason was simple; she didn't make him feel like she used to. That's why he left. That's why people leave each other. They come to their senses and get selfish again. That's exactly what he had become.

Selfish.

X

Separation, rejection, betrayal, breaking up, splitting up; whatever the name you give it, it had felt like the ultimate assault—an incalculable insult to who she is—or thought she was. It made her doubt things that earlier she took for granted. And it also dealt a huge blow to her ability, or willingness, to trust others and although she would never admit it but maybe herself as well. It represented a loss of innocence: a sadder-but-wiser, unasked-for introduction into a world more perplexing and painful than she might have ever imagined.

It never had even occurred to her that they wouldn't make it. And what saddens her most that she knew it didn't occur to him that it would. That every little fight, every little argument, every little misunderstanding, every time she would break down and threaten to leave—seemingly the one at fault—he might have almost counted on it to go wrong. For them to go wrong. The times she had left, sometimes for days to search within herself the strength to come back to him, it had always been her to surrender and to return. She wonders now, would he have come looking for her? Would he have cared?

Probably not.

Such were her thoughts as she let the serenity of the atmosphere around her embrace her. She may have had the occasional tear run down her face but she was quick to swipe it away. Her troubles, her sadness, her pain was next to oblivious to her son. And she would like to keep it that way. Colours of red, orange and brown was what filled her vision and it comforted her somewhat. The red of her apples, the orange and brown of the leaves, and every so often a brown-haired head would pop out from underneath the fallen leaves.

"Mommy, look! Look, look!" her toddler called out, drawing her away from her thoughts. He had clumps of leaves in his fists and leaves all over his head. He was at the age where he wanted to touch, feel and sometimes _taste _everything.

"Yes, Henry. Mommy sees you," offering him the tiniest of smiles and it was one that reached her eyes. She was so grateful to have Henry in her life. She wouldn't know what she would be or do without him. The week he was at Kathryn's on her request was a torturous and depressing one but she knew she needed the time to recuperate. To heal. To be better. To be his mother, if she couldn't be to others. She could only hope that he would be alright and thankfully so, he had been since David left.

Occasionally asking of his Daddy's whereabouts, she and David had come to an agreement where he would call to speak to Henry at least once a day. They weren't yet in a position where they could be under the same roof and not be hostile towards one another. So at best, this was a win-win situation for everyone although Regina did not take too kind that Henry would pass the phone over to her every time. "Mommy, Daddy—talk," he would say and of course she would comply.

Speaking of the Devil himself, the distant ring of the phone could be heard and Henry's sensitive ears picked up on it immediately. Sitting not too far from his mommy, he uses his fists to help him off the ground, his bottom in the air first before standing upright. Brushing off the leaves in his fists in haste, small pin legs ran towards Regina and almost crashed into her knees. Holding to her knees, he looked up at her, "Mommy, phone! Daddy's calling! Let's go, let's go!"

Lifting him up and onto her lap, she swipes a quick kiss to his forehead, "Alright, can't keep Daddy waiting, can we?" He shook his head and grinned excitedly. Securing him on her hip, she hurried him to the kitchen phone so as not to miss the call. She didn't want to have to call David back and pretend with pleasantries when she knew it was anything but pleasant. Especially with Henry around, the animosity she still harbours in heart over what David to her wasn't something she wanted to express in front of Henry. That was better done behind locked doors where only she could bear witness to the pitiless cries that emitted from her.

Upon entering the kitchen, Henry was quick to grab the wireless phone off the kitchen counter and pressed it to his ear immediately. "Hello? Hi Daddy!" he shouted in the phone, forgetting that he was in his mother's arms and he needn't shout to be heard. Knowing that the call may take a while, Regina put him down on his feet. As soon as she turned her back on him, she could hear his little feet scurrying off to her office. It was his way of mimicking her from the times he saw her speaking on the phone and he would climb on to the armchair with an arm resting on the armrest as she would.

Just as she expected, about 15 minutes later a small hand tugged on the hem of her skirt while the other hand held up the phone to her. "Daddy says hi. He says he misses me."

"I'm sure he does, sweetheart." With a light pat on his head, she reluctantly took the call and unconsciously bit her lip before speaking her soon-to-be ex-husband. It was the usual: hello, how are you, how is Henry really doing; same old same old. However, although he meant no offense, speaking in a caring and concerned tone he lectured her as if they were still husband and wife. He hadn't a clue what she's been through other than what she told him and neither has she spoken to Kathryn. So it certainly was something she hadn't expected to hear from him especially since he had not once actually come and see how they were doing.

His words specifically were that she should stop sulking and that he was sorry that she was taking this—whatever this is—so hard. He was sorry that she couldn't get out of bed but she had to think of Henry. It wouldn't be responsible of her to be down in the slums while their son who was teeming with life, looked on and saw his mother like that. She heard him, yes but she wasn't about to start a row with him over the phone. If he had the common courtesy to actually see about their wellbeing or at the very least Henry's, she wouldn't have gotten so angry. What she was going through, what she was trying to handle on her own, what she wanted to do to make things liveable was supposed to stay within the four walls of this house. They were fine. Henry was fine. She was fine and he needn't to know otherwise.

In a blind rage, she stormed off to where Henry sat playing in the living room. Caught unawares of his mother's temper, he continues playing without looking up to see her. The blocks he played with were methodically placed slowly on top of another, almost aligned to form a perfect tower. Only when he had achieved that did he look up to face his mother. And it wasn't a sight he had ever seen on her nor was he prepared for the volume of her voice. It scared him. "Henry! What did you tell daddy? What did you say to him?"

Hands on her hips, it seemed as though she wasn't cognizant of the fact she was harrowing her young son. But she was angry. Not tolerating his silence, she knelt in front of him, pulling him up by his arm so they were eye to eye. "Henry, what did you tell your father?"

"Nothing, Mommy." He couldn't understand what was going on. Why his mother held a tight grip to his arm. Had he done something wrong?

Her cheeks were flushed now and she could feel hot tears building up beneath her eyelids. A child's words are honest and it tells of how they view their world. If he had said anything to David to suggest what life had become living without him, she needed to know. She needed to know that what David had said to her was baseless and vague and that there was no truth that they were anything less than fine. "Henry, tell me! What did you say? Tell Mommy, please." Her voice cracked at the plea and somehow it reached to Henry causing his tears to fall before hers.

"I—I said you was sad Mommy. I told Daddy I—I was sad too." He was stuttering amidst his cries, hiccupping almost. He only spoke of what he had been observing and how he felt about it.

A sudden jerk of his arm snapped her out of her anger. An anger that wasn't at all directed to the one person she loved and loved her back. What has she done? Tears wetted her cheeks watching her son cry for doing nothing wrong. She inflicted this onto him and she hurt him. At that, she let go of her grip on his arm and sat back on her heels with arms falling limp at her sides. "Oh Henry, I'm sorry. Please don't be sad."

She slowly held her hands out to him, hoping that he wouldn't shut her down. She managed a smile through her tears, silently telling him that everything's okay and she won't hurt him. She saw the hesitant look in his eyes and it broke her heart that she had made him fear her. Being afraid of a parent wasn't a trait she wanted him to inherit. After a few tries, he still wouldn't budge, his tears slowly drying up as he wiped them with the back of his hand. Her eyes fell closed in defeat, feeling at a loss of what to do. "Mommy's sorry. I'm not angry at you. Mommy's sorry, Henry," her voice quiet and hurt.

Without warning, his small body crashed into hers, small arms circling her neck as he buried his head in the crook of it. She nearly fell backwards from the force but she caught herself with one hand behind her while the other held him firmly to her body. Once she regained her balance she wrapped both arms tighter around him and moved her body in a slow rocking motion that soothed the cries of both mother and child. Her voice still shook with swallowed cries when she spoke, in need to reassure him, "I'm sorry Henry. I love you very much. It won't happen again, I promise." She felt a gentle nod against her shoulder and it took every bit of her strength to not break down even more. His legs that were still too short to wrap around her small frame hung limply at her sides and she knew he was tired. Securing a hand under him, she carried him to her bedroom where they both soon fell asleep in each other's arms.

It may have been in the last minutes of her sleep that she dreamt of her father. It was short, flighty but when she woke it almost felt as real as Henry's body against hers. The room she was in smelled familiar, looked familiar. Her father had held her close as he moved his feet from side-to-side, a hand resting softly on the small of her back. The hum of a lullaby played softly near her ear. All of her anxiety and sense of hopelessness seemed to have faded away as she swayed in her father's arms. It was as though he knew she needed to be held for just a little awhile after having gone without a warm embrace for so long. It was as though he knew she needed this for herself and for her son. To be held so she could hold her son without a doubt in her mind she could keep him safe and loved. Silent tears had slipped through closed eyelids and onto his shoulder when his hand ran up and down her back. "Everything is going to be alright dear. You can be happy."

X

Life had gotten back to normal or at least a semblance to what was once normal. Regina went back to being Mayor of her town after taking a short leave of absence and since she couldn't re-elect a new sheriff on any reasonable grounds, David remained sheriff. In retrospect, she realizes that they had blurred the lines between their work and personal relationships and now that was out of the question. Proper boundaries had been set and so far, other than the odd clash of opinions, things have been tolerable, acceptable although not ideal. Nothing about this was ideal but they made do.

One of their other agreements as part of their separation was to not neglect Henry and allow him to have both his parents. For the first week or two, it was difficult on every one. After an overnight stay at David's, Henry refused to let go of David. He kicked and screamed when she pried Henry from David and it broke her heart at every merciless plea as she carried him inside. "I want Daddy! Don't leave me Daddy!" were a few that escaped his torn heart when the image of his Daddy became smaller and smaller. But what struck her still was what David had said to Henry which ultimately stopped the tantrums. He had said that Henry needed his mom as much as she needed him and from then on, goodbyes were easier for Henry.

Tonight was one of those nights and she took full advantage of it. Instead of cooking in her own kitchen she opted to have dinner at Granny's. It was decent, quiet and at this time of night there weren't many diners. There were a few familiar faces but no one that knew her personally and she didn't mind that in the least. No disturbances, no fake smiles over a conversation she'd rather not have, no one that needed her attention. Just herself and her thoughts.

Her previous frown instantly curved in to a warm smile when her meal was placed in front of her. "Enjoy your food, honey." In the past, they had had their differences but as of late, Granny found no reason to not be nice to the woman who ran a well-oiled town.

"Thanks." A smile matching the older woman's before she disappeared behind the kitchen doors once more.

Just as she lifted her cutlery, a thick-accented voice came from one of the booths behind her. Irritated by this sudden intrusion of privacy, she twists her body to the direction of the voice that surprisingly so, was one she had never heard before. A visitor to the town? A foreigner?

"It's not for everyone you know… Dining alone. You must be made of pretty stern stuff to do that," said this man, his hand resting casually on the cushion behind him giving off a vibe she couldn't quite place.

Normally, she would ignore such candid observations about her life but she soon found herself entertaining this stranger instead. There was something about him. Cocking an eyebrow, she too hung a hand over her own chair, "Really?"

"Really. The trick is to seem mysterious. Like the choice is yours," smirking at being able to get a response from this seemingly hard-headed woman.

She lightly laughed at this unusual conversation she was having let alone with a man she had never seen before. Later, she'll regret ordering that red wine. This candour was very unlike her. "Impressive."

"Well, you pick these things up," he says, shrugging his leather-covered shoulders. That devilish smile wouldn't leave his face when he had heard her laugh. Nothing like he had ever heard before. It intrigued him to see a woman with such a regal stature to laugh like that.

"Care to join me?" She couldn't tell the difference whether she was taunting him or was it an actual invitation but it shocked her to hear herself ask him that. It's the wine, she says to herself.

"Sorry but that'd be cheating."

"Oh?" she asked, a hint of disappointment seeping through.

He smiled as he grabbed his things and walked over to her, amused at how her eyes followed him till he stood by her side. Breaking eye contact briefly, he placed a few notes on the counter for his meal before returning to face her. Up close, she was even more beautiful but it was her eyes though that he found most attractive about her. A caramel-brown that glinted past a sadness that was buried deep within which she hid behind. It was familiar.

"Besides I'd rather wait," glancing off to the clock, "well, I must go. Remember, stay mysterious. That's the key." Turning on his heels, he chucked a hand in his pockets while the other pushed the door open.

"Wait, I didn't catch your name." She was Mayor and she needed to know of the ins and outs of her town including this stranger. It was a valid reason and one she kept telling herself as she waited on baited breath for his reply.

With one foot out the door, he turned to look at her, a suppressed smile behind his rugged features, "You already know it, love."

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**Thanks for reading! Please review, I'd love to hear what you think!**


	3. Chapter 3: Bed & Breakfast

**Hey guys! So sorry for the crazily long wait… Had some problems with this chapter. And my muse and I well we kinda fell sick lol SPOILER. Anyways thanks for the wonderful feedback so far. I hope you find this enjoyable. Sail on Hooked Queen!**

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Regina gazed out to the grey waters of the marina—peaceful, still, secure. The townspeople were all sleeping soundly, except for the few stirring in preparation for the day. Everything was calm and quiet, as she liked it to be. Taking a sip of her to-go coffee she relished at the heat that coursed through her body providing added warmth as she sat in the chilly morning air of her town. Hues of orange and yellow illuminated the sky signifying the start of a new day and it coloured the skies beautifully. She came often just to sit and enjoy the peace whenever she gets the chance. But this morning, she was waiting for someone.

Lost for a moment as she breathed in the fresh air, a noise from the back startled her and made her already rigid posture straighten on the bench. A gentle thump of a man's boots was all it was as the figure stepped in front of her.

"Mind if I join you?" He was handsome, with brown hair carelessly combed, eyes so blue they took her by surprise and a manly scruff set about his jaw. His clothes weren't adequate for the cold—jeans, a leather jacket, scuffed boots, no gloves. Much like from the night before.

She lifted her gaze, looking at him questionably as though she were stunned that he hadn't just asked her. Wanting to maintain her aloofness, she looked over one shoulder, then the other, determining that there was no one else. They were alone. "Are you talking to me?"

The grin she saw briefly last night was quick to come, and then leave. "I don't see anyone else. Do you?"

Without even looking for added measure, she replied. "No. No, I don't."

"So… can I sit down?"

She gestured to the space beside her which he chose to sit far too close for her liking, easing down before extending his hand. "I'm—"

"Killian Jones. I remember." She lowered her gaze to her cup, waiting for his surprised reaction. Surprises posed as a threat to her unless she was the one responsible for it.

"Impressive… Regina Mills or as you are now lovingly called, Madam Mayor," he smirked knowing that his words caught her attention. His eyes danced with laughter as he drank in the sight of her. She was different underneath the glow of the morning sun compared to the fluorescent lights of the diner. It danced on her hair, skin and the tiny studs that adorned her ears. It was pleasantly different. Before she could retort, he quickly asked, "Do you usually sit alone out here this early?"

The glare she held on him immediately softened, "As a matter of fact, I do. It's perfectly safe." And, today, perfectly confusing. Her reaction to him was a mix of things she'd hadn't felt in a long time—familiarity, a sense of homecoming, embarrassment. The sort of things a woman might experience upon meeting a particular man. But she was immune to such emotions—or at least, she was supposed to be. Unnerved by it, she abruptly stood and walked closer to the pier, her hands gripping the railings in search of some sort of gravity.

"If I may...," he asked as he stood by her side. They didn't say anything for a while, lost in their own thoughts. He realized now as they stood in even closer proximity, he wasn't wrong earlier to assume that something about her was different. She was matured, like a good bottle of wine. But like all fine wines, there was a hint of bitterness and he wondered why.

She could feel his eyes watching her, studying her features, sifting the old from the new, searching of the familiar to latch on to and she was unusually okay with that. "You always loved the sea," she randomly commented, her voice low and vibrant as she looked at the waters ahead of her.

"My first love," he said without missing a beat. Immediately, he noticed the awkward shift in the air between them as he eyed her but kept his distance, unsure of how to approach her. The smile she offered him in return was slight and her eyes shined with old memories.

It took her awhile after he had left the diner last night but she realized she did know his name. How could she forget; he taught her the importance of keeping one's word. Docking on the marina of Storybrooke was nostalgia of sorts for both of them. Killian Jones the infamous journeyer had come home.

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Months have passed since that morning at the pier and their friendship soon bloomed to something more, much to Regina's surprise. She had abandoned any thoughts of having any kind of relationship outside of the one she has with Henry. But time heals all things and with Killian constantly there by her side, it felt almost natural for their feelings to develop. Like most relationships they fought and quarreled about the tiniest issues such as the state of his 'house-boat' whenever she and Henry came to visit. But it never ended bitterly and their apologies, most of the time, were expressed with lips locked in passion.

Despite this, Regina Mills never compromised her independence and how incredibly adamant she was about on doing things on her own. It left no room for error except her own and she alone would be responsible for any disappointments. To depend on another person was a huge step for her but when the odd occurrence arises where she finds herself incapacitated, like falling ill; it was an option she could no longer deny and when the time came, she bit the bullet and called Killian.

X

Killian leaned against the pillars, fingers adjusting the petals of the bouquet he had with him as he waited on the porch. The doorbell of 108 Mifflin Street was rung twice before it was answered by Henry who smiled widely at the visitor.

"Good morning you little ruffian!" rustling Henry's mop of a head with his free hand who was still in his pajamas.

"Good morning Captain!" raising his hand in a mock salute. As Killian lived on a boat, it was a game they played where he is Captain of a ship and Henry his pirate.

"How's your mom doing?"

"I think you better see for yourself," the boy shrugged, stepping away from the door letting him in.

Just as he was about to climb the flight of stairs, he turned to look at the boy who went off in the direction of the living room. "You're okay down here by yourself, while I go and take a look at your mom?"

"Of course I am! I am a big boy. I made my own cereal," puffing out his chest and putting on a hero's stance.

Lightly chuckling at this young boy's antics, he wouldn't deny that Henry had captured his heart just as his mother has. "A big boy indeed. I'll be down soon. Aye, mate?"

"Aye aye captain!"

Placing the bouquet on her bed, he was surprised to find that she wasn't in bed judging by the way she sounded over the phone. She actually admitted defeat to her pride and actually rang him. It was a first. He felt incredibly proud and at the same time felt incredibly sorry that she wasn't feeling well. "Regina? Love? Where are you?"

He heard a muffled sneeze and an even softer reply. "Here. In the closet."

She was sitting on the floor, her head leaning on her arm that rested on the ottoman she had there and her legs curled beneath her. Adorable wouldn't begin to explain how she looked in that moment. He proceeded to sit in front of her with hands that clasped underneath his thighs making him able to rock to and fro. "What are you doing in here? You're going to feel much worse surrounded by these clothes and shoes." Looking around he hadn't noticed how many they were; her wardrobe could dress a town.

Coughing into her palm, she looks up to him through half-lidded eyes. "Henry. I didn't want him to get sick. So I thought better to confine myself in here. How is he by the way?" she lifts her head slightly in curiosity.

"He's fine. The lad made his own cereal."

"Yes. It's a new thing for him. Makes him feel grown up." Her lips popped at the 'p', and then parted as she mirrored his smile.

"And what about this grown-up? Shall we head back to the bedroom?" cocking an eyebrow suggestively earning him a good slap on his knee.

"But Henry—"

"He's a healthy boy. Thanks to his amazing, lovely, beautiful mom here," playfully poking his finger at her shoulder.

"Alright, alright. Don't get all funny with me okay. Just because I'm not feeling well I will not hesitate in making your every waking moment a living hell."

Pulling her up and into his arms, they linked their arms in the crook of their elbows. "That's my girl."

Turning to look at him, a questioning expression showed on her face making it evident that she was unsatisfied with that remark. So he tried again. "My lady? My woman? My queen?"

Nodding in approval, the corners of her mouth curved into a smile. "That's more like it."

With one arm through hers and the other holding her firmly against him by the waist, they finally made it to her bed. Always the playful one, he lifts the duvet so high that it covered her from head to toe which made her laugh. Eventually he had her tucked in with a tissue box by her side which wasn't an easy task but finally he could sit down by her side without her making a fuss. Pressing the back of his hand to her forehead, his lips pursed and his brows scrunched up in worry at the touch. "My hot-headed queen indeed," he teased.

The Kleenex she had rolled up in her hands soon found its way to his jaw at that comment.

"Regina!"

"Oh, did I hurt you?" slender fingers cupped his chin. Their gaze lingered like that for a while until a cough interrupted them, making them both laugh. A comfortable silence followed after and she was grateful for she didn't want to spoil this moment. She couldn't remember the last time she felt like this. To be cared for, to be doted upon, to be _loved. _It wasn't so much of him being here when she called for him rather she knew if she hadn't he would still come to her. In more often times than not, she couldn't believe that this was real. He was real.

She laid her hand against his face, and all words either wished to say dried up. He turned his head slightly, just enough to bring his lips in contact with her palm. His skin was warm, bristly with beard stubble, and his mouth was incredibly soft. The contrast sent tiny waves of pleasure all through her hand, from there to the rest of her body. Her eyes fall shut at the chill and when she felt him move away from her she immediately missed the contact.

"Get some rest, love. I'll be downstairs with Henry, if you need me." Adjusting the covers about her, he planted a chaste kiss on her lips before he left her side.

As he was about to leave, a small, raspy voice called out to him. "Killian…"

He always loved to hear her say his name. "Yes love?"

"Thank you." A small smile was shared between them for a moment before he closed the door softly.

As he descended down the stairs, Killian too couldn't believe his lucky stars that this would be his life upon coming back to Storybrooke. Initially, he had no concrete plans of staying or going but now as he thought about it, in light of the recent developments he swayed to wanting to stay. His adventures of being out in the open were appealing but when compared to the way he felt when he spent time with Regina, it didn't tug at him as it used to. A smile played on his lips as he recalled the memories of their time spent together and his smile widened further when he found Henry standing at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for him.

"So how is she?" questioned the young boy who now has fashioned a patch over his eye.

"She's resting. I got her out of the closet," he chuckles, "She's doing okay but… There's a little boy I know who won't be okay if he doesn't start running now!" Crooking his right index finger like a hook, Killian waved it at Henry whose eyes sparkled with excitement. "One… two… Th—"and before he could finish, they were off chasing each other.

X

When she finally woke up, the sky in her window was a flat grey, her room darkened and the temperature dropped. She inhaled deeply the scent of fresh flowers as her limbs started to awake and her dreamless sleep came to an end. Red roses were bundled neatly together beside her, giving a remarkable contrast against the beige tones of her bed. A smile graces her features and a finger idly traces her lips at the memory of Killian's lips on hers. Thankfully, her well-rested sleep did wonders to her as all of her previous ailments seemed like a thing of the past.

Enveloping herself in a robe, she makes her way downstairs humming an indistinct tune and it didn't occur to her how her house was unusually quiet until she reached the bottom of the steps. She curses under her breath for not checking Henry's room first. This wasn't normal. Her steps were light and almost without sound as she flicked on the lights at the foyer giving light to her house. Craning her neck, she glanced around for them but they were nowhere in sight. Taking a few steps towards the living room her breath hitched when their figures came into view.

They were both on her sofa sleeping. Both of their heads were lolled to the side, away from her. Killian had his arm over Henry's body that lifted slightly following the rise and fall of Killian's chest. It was so natural and familiar that with one look at them any one would say they were father and son.

Leaning against the entrance with her hands wrapped around her middle, she just stood there motionless and wordless watching as they slept. It was everything she dreamed of for Henry. This was what she had wanted with David. David should have been the one holding Henry as he slept like when Henry was still a baby. David should be here—with her, with them—in this house. If these four walls could talk it would say so much of the happiness that flowed through this house.

Blinking her eyes profusely away from the painful recollection, she makes her way towards them, dodging Henry's toys that were strewn across the floor. Reaching for the woolly throw she had over the sofa, she quietly covers them both with it and when Killian's eyes flutter open she offers him a small smile. "Hey sleepyhead…"

When her gaze landed on them as she stood upright, her mind's eye decided to play tricks on her. She was certain as it was too farfetched to be true because in Killian's place, David's body laid there instead. The blue eyes were his, the blonde hair was his, and the clothes he wore were unmistakably his. And the image taunted her making her believe even in the shortest while that it was a reality that she wanted but couldn't have. She shook her head vigorously, shaking the image away and to her relief when she opened her eyes moments later she found Killian's once more.

It wasn't real. It will never be real. It wouldn't be fair to Killian.

And she had to embrace that but standing here watching the intimate familial scene was too much for her to grasp right now. Instead, she heads towards the kitchen to find some sort of isolation to gather her thoughts.

X

She was standing at the marble top in the middle of kitchen with her back turned away from the door when he came in. Leaning against it with one elbow propped up and the other cupped a mug of what he assumed to be hot cocoa judging by the smell that wafted through the air. His steps were light as he approached her from behind and he quietly slides his arms around her waist, and rests his chin on her shoulder.

"I'm usually a man of spirits and wines but your hot cocoa… there is nothing like it." He nervously chuckles, slightly unnerved by her lack of response. She was stiff and when she turned to face him, swivelling in the circle of his arms, her eyes were cold and hard. Having been on the receiving end of that glare in the past, he couldn't make out though what troubled her so.

"Do you have to make light of everything?"

"Regina, what's the matter? I only passed a compliment. And it was to you," his brows furrowing in concern. She started to push herself out of his arms, but he held on. Ignoring the half-hearted fight she was putting he went on voicing his concerns. "How are you feeling?" he asked, lifting a hand to her forehead but it was batted away before he could reach her.

"I'm fine. I'm perfectly fine. Now if you please, just let me go." She fought in his arms till he let her go. It felt too close, too much understanding from him that it made her feel uncomfortable. The image of David lying on the couch still lingered in her mind and she wished it would just go away. It was frustrating.

It was a harmless plea but there were so many aspects of that statement that he didn't want to go into. Instead, he focused on her, lifting her spirits and making her smile. Occupying the space she stood at before, with his back leaning against it, he turns to face her. He allows the space between them and letting her breathe out her frustrations whatever they were. "If you're fine, as you say you are… I don't see that smile of yours, love."

"That's because I'm not showing it to you." Arms folded across her chest, her eyes rolled to the back of her head at his childishness.

He shrugs but continues with his efforts. She'll break soon enough. "You have a great smile, Regina…;"leaning back on his elbows so they were on eye level, "Don't smile at me though."

And slowly, she did break into a smile. His rueful charm had always done her in and this time there was no exception. For a moment, she was able to forget and leave her frustrations behind. Only Killian knew how to and that's what she loved about him.

"Well well well… so she does smile." He couldn't help it, but he had to touch her. He tugged on her sleeve and easily she came back into his arms. Chest to chest, he traced her hair, then tipped her chin and kissed her. He didn't know it yet but he brought back more than just her smile.

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**Thanks so much for reading! Please review, I love to hear your feedback. And suggestions are welcome too! Xx ~parrilla-adkins~**


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